


Moon of My Life

by bananabun



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alpha Derek Hale, Breeder Stiles Stilinski, Derek is Khal Drogo, Forced Marriage, Game of Thrones AU, Human Stiles Stilinski, I couldn't find a way to write him in so tbd, M/M, Omega Stiles Stilinski, Stiles is sort of Dany, forced mating, oh also Scott doesn't exist in this fic?, or he's not McCall's son?, that's what they're called in this AU since ABO dynamics are specific to the wolf packs
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-27
Updated: 2018-05-21
Packaged: 2019-04-13 13:17:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,960
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14113161
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bananabun/pseuds/bananabun
Summary: Derek is the Alpha of the Wolf packs, a nomadic people of the grasslands. Stiles is the breeder ward of a bitter, vain old man, Rafael McCall, who wants power at any cost. Currently, that cost is on Stiles, whom McCall has handed over to the barbaric Alpha wolf leader in exchange for soldiers.Stiles is caught in the middle, free of his old tormentor but thrust into a whole new world.-----Game of Thrones AU!





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Because I'm literal trash, I'm publishing another side project while I have two sitting WIP fics. Guys... I suck. But I have so many good things written that literally no one reads and yeah this is one of them.
> 
> No guarantees, because let's not forget that I'm trash, but I hope you enjoy this. Non-con and underage is tagged because this whole situation is forced on Stiles. 
> 
> Erm, let me know if I've missed a tag??

Stiles sits stiff in his chair. He’s seated behind the table, against the wall, as he always is when summoned to this room. Before him, along the heavy slab of wood McCall often uses for his bastardized version of a small council, is the man himself who Stiles is ward of, Rafael McCall, and the few slimey men who he calls council. 

Currently, they’re discussing him. That’s why they’ve summoned him here, as if they were to actually include him in their conversation, the bastards. He keeps his head down as they speak, fingers gripped in the near see-through shift McCall likes to dress him in. Often white or pink-orange in color, cinched around the neck by means of a golden ring and once on the lower back by a leather string, meant to be slipped off and on easily, and leaving nothing to the imagination. 

“Your Grace, there has been communication with the Alpha of The Packs. He has yet to take a wolfen mate. Rumour is his tastes have grown with his mingling in other cultures.” one of the councilmen, the Magistrate, says.

“And?” McCall prods.

The Magistrate, if he can really be called that, clears his throat. “It is my suggestion that you offer young Stiles' hand in exchange for the use of his men in war. The Packs are a strong force of warriors with superior skills. Once you’ve acquired boats to cross the narrow sea, a force like that behind you and you’re sure to gain back power as the rightful King.”

McCall appears to think it over. “You can guarantee this savage leader will take him?”

The other gentleman seems to sweat. “Of course, Your Grace, I cannot guarantee it, however I am confident that The Alpha will be swayed. Young Stiles is an exquisite creature, after all.”

Stiles grits his teeth. He doesn’t know who The Alpha is, or what The Packs are, but he knows that he’s glad not to be marrying the Magistrate. He knows McCall has been considering it for a while, and that the Magistrate’s eyes linger on him. Which makes it all the more odd that he’s the one to suggest this.

“You have my interest. Do all you can to assure I get his army of men.” McCall says after a moment.

“Yes, Your Grace.”

_______________________

Stiles stands shivering at the top of the stairs to the Magistrate’s courtyard. He’s not cold, despite being in another sheer, shift-like dress – this time a soft indigo purple with ornate, silver clasps holding it up atop his shoulders. No, he’s shivering in fear at what will await him at the bottom of the stairs.

McCall appears next to him and he and the Magistrate begin to descend, discussing their honored guests who will be arriving shortly. Stiles doesn’t follow them. McCall seems to notice this a few steps down and abruptly stops.

“Stiles. Come!” McCall shouts back at him, his face bitter as he turns to him in annoyance. “Don’t make us late to the meeting with the beast you’re going to marry.”

“Your Grace, the Wolves do refer to it as ‘mating,’ I believe.” the Magistrate adds pleasantly.

“I don’t want to marry him,” Stiles says quietly before he can stop himself. Normally, he wouldn’t dare defy McCall so blatantly, but he’s scared. He imagines a beast-wolf over his body, tearing him apart, just like McCall has joked about in passing, and he’s never been so scared to descend stairs in his life.

McCall seems to prickle at his words, though, and he storms back up the steps and to take Stiles by the upper arm. Stiles winces; his grip is bruisingly hard and he regrets saying anything. 

“I don’t care what you want,” McCall mutters in his ear, voice low and terrifying. “I care about the army of wolves Alpha Hale is going to give me in exchange for your disgusting, immoral cunt.” Stiles whimpers at the insults and the tight grip on his arm. “Now, come. And keep your mouth shut.”

McCall releases him and waits. Stiles trembles, but forces himself to take a step down. Then another, and another, and then he is following his guardian and the Magistrate to the bottom of the stairs.

It’s only moments after they reach the bottom that horses are heard approaching. Stiles can feel his heart racing as he hears them come closer. He stands with his eyes on the ground and his hands clasped meekly in front of his body. The Magistrate stands to his left and McCall to his right. He itches to peek in front of him when the hooves come to a stop. Instead, he lifts his eyes enough to count the horses; … one, two, three sets of hooves. When a set of leather bound feet touch down from the middle horse, Stiles eyes quickly revert back to the ground just before him.

The Magistrate is the first to break the silence.

“Alpha Hale, I welcome you to my estate. May I introduce Rafael McCall, The Rightful King of Beacon,” he says. Stiles doesn’t hear the Alpha respond. Instead, he hears footsteps approaching them.

When it’s clear that the Alpha is approaching Stiles, the Magistrate seems to sputter. Stiles grits his teeth and tries to take deep breaths.

“–Y-yes, of course, and this is breeder Stiles of House Stilinski, ward of The Rightful King,”

The Alpha only grunts in response and steps into Stiles’ personal space. Stiles recoils back a bit, not sure what the Alpha is doing. He breaks his eye contact with the ground and lifts his chin, eyes widening when he sees the Alpha is staring intently at his throat. Stiles gulps, which seems to spur the Alpha on because next the wolf is leaning in close to his throat and inhaling deeply.

Stiles gasps, flinching away and closing his eyes tightly as he expects to be bitten right there. He wheezes stuttering breaths as he waits for the pain, but there is none. Instead, he feels only a huff of air against his exposed neck and hears a rumble of a sound as the Alpha pulls himself back. 

Stiles blinks his eyes open in shock, a brash breath leaving his open mouth without his permission. Head still turned away, he can’t stop his eyes from moving to the Alpha who stands in front of him, the Alpha who just… sniffed him. The Alpha isn’t looking him in the eyes, but rather examining his face, gaze pausing on Stiles’ mouth and flashing red for a split second. Stiles clicks his jaw shut and directs his eyes back to the ground as his heart ramps up in a new fit of nerves.

The Alpha inhales once more and steps back. He goes back to his horse, climbs atop and leads his company back from where they came. Stiles blinks as the sound of their horses fade into the distance.

“Did Alpha Hale agree? Where is he going?” McCall asks, irate that the Alpha didn’t acknowledge The Rightful King, probably.

“The Alpha approved of young Stiles.” The Magistrate says warmly. It makes Stiles’ heart drop into his stomach.

“How do you know that, the beast didn’t say a single word! He just sniffed around the boy like an animal.” 

“Trust me, Your Grace,” the Magistrate chuckles. “If he disapproved of Stiles, we would know.”

Stiles gulps. What has become of his life?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yay! I wrote this last summer when I was counting down the days till the new season. It's written up to the first sex scene, which, man, for some reason I always struggle with writing. 
> 
> Also! Mama got a tumblr~ I'm not very active because I'm shy and scared to like initiate communication with people, but totally hit me up if you want to! It's vexed-n-hexed.tumblr.com
> 
> fair warning though, I post a lot of late night anxiety shit there.
> 
> Thanks for reading!!!!!


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I meant to post this days ago! Please enjoy!!

He meets Mr. Deaton a few days later. Mr. Deaton was born in Beacon, like Stiles, but unlike Stiles, he grew up in the kingdom of Beacon and lived there for many years as an adult. Stiles asks if Deaton knew his father or mother when the man had lived in Beacon.

Stiles doesn’t remember much of the circumstances of his family. McCall hasn’t been too forthcoming with information. Stiles knows that his father was an advisor to the former King, who was McCall’s brother. The former king was killed in the usurping in Beacon before Stiles was born. He thinks his father was probably killed as well. His mother died in childbirth. How he ended up with McCall on the other side of the Narrow Sea, Stiles isn’t sure.

Mr. Deaton, unfortunately, was only a tradesman in his time in the capitol. He knew who Stiles’ father was, but didn’t know Stiles’ family.

Mr. Deaton is the main communicator between the Magistrate and the Alpha of the wolf packs. He came two days after the Alpha saw Stiles, accompanied by another wolf by the name of Isaac. Isaac doesn’t speak a lick of common tongue, but Mr. Deaton speaks both common tongue and the wolf language, so they communicate the coming expectations quite smoothly.

That is, the mating expectations. Mr. Deaton confirms with McCall and the Magistrate that Alpha Hale has agreed to mate Stiles and that the ceremony is to be just days away. McCall keeps pestering Mr. Deaton about his army of wolf warriors and Mr. Deaton tells him that he will have his army once Stiles gives Alpha Hale a child.

Stiles turns cold when he hears that. Sure, he knew that was the expectation but… to be the terms of the arrangement? For so much to ride on him producing a child? It frightens him.

Before Mr. Deaton leaves, he sits with Stiles for an hour and outlines pack customs. Stiles does his best to follow along, to remember how he should and shouldn’t act. He’s told he is expected to learn the wolf language, but for now Mr. Deaton will act as a translator. It’s a lot to take in. Stiles is glad when he leaves.

________________________

The day of his mating ceremony arrives quickly. They’re just outside the merchant city where the Magistrate holds his estate. The pack’s camp is set up along the coastline where the sand meets the long, wild grass. Two large sitting boulders have been hauled by horses, or so Mr. Deaton has told him, to the head of a clearing in the middle of their camp. Stiles is sat on the left boulder, a slave just behind him to bring food and drink. Alpha Hale is sitting on the other boulder, stiff and silent and decorated in what appears to be ceremonial war paint, leather abdominal armor and leather pants. Stiles himself is wearing another ethereal gown, this time with a crystal broach centered at this neckline.

There is hours of ceremony. First, it’s as though every important guest brings Stiles and the Alpha gifts. Stiles gets most of them – Mr. Deaton brings him three common tongue literary classics from Beacon, along with a basic dictionary of the wolf language; the Magistrate gives him a set of extravagant, rare fur pelts for warmth and travel; Isaac approaches Stiles with a small, hand chiseled dagger, with which he cuts his palm with then gives over. Stiles asks Mr. Deaton to explain what it means before he accepts the small blade, and Mr. Deaton says that Isaac has essentially sworn his loyalty to protecting Stiles and that he gives this dagger in symbol of that. Stiles, to say the least, is touched. He doesn’t think anyone has ever sworn their loyalty to him in his life. He takes the dagger.

As the gift giving continues, other ceremonies continue in the clearing before them. Pack members dance, very much different than the dancing Stiles is used to seeing. For a while, the men of the pack spar, one by one, in celebration of the Alpha’s mating. At one point, a goat is slaughtered and the best cuts are taken out right then, making Stiles a bit queasy if he’s honest with himself, before being cooked and served to the Alpha and his new mate. After a few hours of dancing and eating, McCall tries to ask the Alpha about his promised armies. Stiles watches from the corner of his eye as the stoic wolf-man all but ignores McCall, making his guardian twitch with thinly veiled anger. It only makes McCall turn his attentions to Stiles. 

Admittedly, Stiles has almost been having a good time. Good, as in, wildly different from his dreary normal living as the obedient ward of The Rightful King. It all seems to shatter when McCall comes up behind him and casually leans down to speak in his ear.

“Don’t let all this excitement distract you from your real job here,” he grits out, already furious at Stiles even though all the young man has done is sit here and accept gifts. “You are here to give this wolf his very own litter. I expect they be conceived tonight, dear Stiles.”

Stiles is very still as he listens to McCall’s words, eyes no longer on the events unfolding before them but rather fixed on a pebble lying at his feet. He doesn’t nod or say anything in response, but McCall isn’t expecting one; when he’s done talking, he retreats to share his company with the Magistrate for the remainder of the mating ceremony. 

Stiles can feel his heart beating hard in his chest with McCall’s reminder, his body frozen in fear as anxiety courses through him. He only shakes out of stupor when the Alpha rises from his seat. The air seems to shift as he moves, the pack members filling in the clearing to touch him as he passes through the middle. Stiles watches on in confusion, the Alpha engulfed by his pack.

“A way of sharing celebration with their Alpha,” Mr. Deaton says, suddenly just behind Stiles. “It demonstrates their approval of the mating, and of the ceremony.”

Stiles is about to ask a question in response when Alpha Hale emerges from where he disappeared in the crowd, the reigns of a stark white stallion in his grip as he heads back to where Stiles sits. 

“What…” Stiles looks to Mr. Deaton. 

“The last gift,” Mr. Deaton replies. “From the Alpha himself.”

Stiles can feel his heart pumping, perhaps in a different way than before, as he directs his gaze back to the Alpha and the horse. His horse, he thinks. That’s a gift for Stiles. 

The Alpha has an intense look about him as he continues for Stiles. For the first time, he’s looking Stiles right in the eyes, eliciting a shiver from the younger man. Stiles doesn’t dare look away from the Alpha, until the wolf-man stops just feet away and extends his free hand. It’s the universal symbol for come and Stiles can’t ignore it, but. This can only mean one thing. The actual mating is close– next, even.

He hesitates. He hopes it passes as a communication barrier, but then he hears a hissed “Go!” from behind him, uttered by McCall, and he jolts upright like he’s been shocked. He has no choice but to take the Alpha’s hand. He has no choice in anything in his life. So, he steps forward and takes it.

The Alpha’s hand is big; it almost completely encompases Stiles’ medium-sized hand (thank-you-very-much), and the wolf’s tanned skin against Stiles’ pale complexion makes for an odd contrast. The Alpha leads him to the horse, keeping their hands grasped together. Stiles runs his fingers through the white mane of the steed in front of him, finding himself smiling just a little. The horse is beautiful. 

“Thank you,” he says quietly to the Alpha. There is no response, probably because the Alpha doesn’t speak common tongue but Stiles hopes his point comes across.

His slave from earlier is suddenly there, assisting him onto his horse. He sort of blanches when he’s atop the white stallion, not sure if he remembers how to ride one at all. But, just a second later, the Alpha climbs atop and settles close behind him. Stiles turns red at the feeling of the large man against him, at the arms fencing him in as they grip the horse reins steer the stallion into a walk. 

The pack cheers as they go. Stiles looks back at the head of the party, where Mr. Deaton and the Magistrate and McCall still stand. He fears what comes next, but there is something in the knowledge that McCall has less power over him now. It almost feels like a glimpse of freedom.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome welcome welcome and happy spring!
> 
> For once, I have nothing to say here so please let me know what you think and I'll see you next time!
> 
> vexed-n-hexed.tumblr.com


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *cringes* sorry it took me forever. Elaboration at end of chapter, if you're curious.
> 
> Please enjoy!! 
> 
> (also, this has not been line/copy edited, yiiiikes)

They ride higher up into the rocks, the trot a slow, uneven one that rocks Stiles and his mate into each other. Stiles holds onto the horse’s mane to steady himself, but the Alpha’s large arms do a fine job of it already. The cheers of the pack grow quieter and quieter as they continue and soon Stiles can see a tent on the horizon, set up in the middle of a clearing by the cliffside. 

The Alpha brings the horse to a standstill once they reach the tent and drops himself down deftly. There’s a tension that sparks when Stiles looks down to his mate, once again a hand extended. Stiles takes the offered assistance down from the horse and ignores the fluttering inside of him as best he can. He takes a step towards the tent, hands held in front of his chest as he wrings them together. But when he turns around, the Alpha isn’t following after him.

Instead, he’s nonchalantly walking the stallion to a tree on the other side of the clearing. Stiles pauses, looking back to where he can barely see the festivities still going on, then looking to his new mate who is still settling in the horse. Not knowing what to do and thinking he can let his curiosity roam for a moment, Stiles walks behind the tent to the cliffside.

The wind whips a bit stronger as he gets closer, and the sound of waves crashing onto the rocks below grows louder. It’s beautiful, Stiles thinks to himself as he’s mesmerized by the water. There is a manmade wall of stones that edges the cliff and Stiles wonders who built it. He can see why the Alpha chose this spot for the two of them.

“Careful,” he hears behind him, a touch of a large palm on his arm. Stiles jumps slightly, turning around to see the Alpha standing very close to him.

“Oh,” he says. It only takes a second before Stiles understands what the Alpha was insinuating. He glances back at the cliff’s edge, then to his new mate and stutters. “N-no, I wasn’t, I was just – ” Stiles stops and stares at the Alpha, who is hovering over Stiles with an unreadable expression. “Wait, you… you speak common tongue?”

“Some,” the Alpha answers. Stiles mumbles an ‘oh’ as the man before him offers no more words. There’s a beat of intense staring before the Alpha reaches forward and touches fingers to the crown of Stiles’ head, slipping them through his mate’s hair. Stiles gulps as his face begins to light up under the unwarranted attention. The man before him just continues, running those fingers down to grip his chin. A thumb swipes up to touch Stiles’ lower lip briefly, before reinstating the grip and tilting Stiles’ head to the side.

And just like that, the man is at his neck again, taking deep breaths of eau de Stiles, except this time skin meets skin as the Alpha’s nose and parted lips skirt up and down his pulse point. It’s making Stiles break out in gooseflesh, but he does his best to stay still. It’s only when lips part and a tongue darts out against his skin that he jumps in shock. 

Stiles is mortified, face a deep, shameful red as he tries to be still again, but the Alpha is already stepping back, a slightly dazed look to his eyes. “Come,” he says, voice low, as he takes another step back. Stiles is frozen for a moment, not wanting to go, but then the Alpha’s large hand is wrapping around his wrist and the man is pulling him along.

It’s rather big inside the tent, once they make it inside. There has to be a dozen animal pelts piled on the floor in very middle, making for a nest of soft furs and warmth. There is a few small tables along the edges of the tent, all topped with food and wine. Other things are there, things that Stiles doesn’t really get to catalogue in his head because the Alpha’s hands are on his gown.

The man picks and pulls, rounds Stiles’ still frame until he finds the contraption that holds the fabric together hanging between the boy’s shoulder blades. It’s only a matter of seconds then before the gown comes loose and the straps slip from his shoulders. Stiles catches it before he’s completely exposed, fearing that it’s the wrong thing to do but knowing he had to. He can’t do this, he can’t –

There’s the sound of movement and of metal and leather clanking together. Stiles looks behind him to see the Alpha removing his abdominal armor, watches him cast it to the side once it’s off. Stiles looks away as the man begins to take off his pants. He’s so scared, he can’t do this. He shakes his head as tears well up in his eyes.

He can feel the Alpha stepping closer, presumably naked now, and he begins to turn to him to plead for his virtue. “Please, A-Alpha Hale–” he starts. The Alpha stops his body from moving, keeping him facing forward, but Stiles manages to turn his head, catch the man’s eye and hold it. 

The Alpha just shakes his head minutely. “It has to happen,” he says quietly, lowly. A sob works its way out of Stiles quite suddenly at those words, his posture crumbling in on itself. 

“I-I won’t say anything, please,” he begs, tears now flowing quite strong. The Alpha only tutts behind him while huge, hulking arms pull Stiles’ body into a tight embrace, wrapping around his chest and squeezing him into the other man’s bare body. The Alpha makes soothing shushing noises as he goes back to running his mouth up and down Stiles’ neck. He lays a kiss on Stiles’ shoulder, then neck, then right behind the boy’s ear.

“They will know. They will smell you and know, mated or not.” the Alpha murmurs in his ear. He goes back to kissing and running his face against the crook of Stiles’ neck, standing there for a long time with his mate in his arms. Stiles understands what the Alpha means and it makes his heart drop. Because the Alpha is right; it has to be done. These are the circumstances of the arrangement. And no matter what lies ahead for Stiles, he won’t go back to his life with McCall.

They stand there for minutes. Stiles begins to wind down, feeling cried out. He hasn’t cried in a long time, and not once since he was betrothed to the man behind him. He takes another big, stuttering breath and releases it. “Y-you s-speak a lot of – c-common tongue,” Stiles says, trying to get the words out between shuddered breaths. He hates to admit how the arms around him have been comforting, and he can’t help but try and communicate. The man behind him hums. Another kiss to his neck; a nose tousling his hairline.

“I prepared for you.” he says simply.

Stiles blinks. Prepared? It can’t mean… He wants to ask a follow up question, but the words die in his throat as the Alpha finally moves his arms. They slide down and take Stiles’ hands in their own, gently working to release the tight grip on the gown that has yet to fully slip off Stiles’ body. Stiles hesitates, but ultimately lets the fabric be worked free. And then they are both standing naked.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ha ha.. hello there. And yes, I cut the sex scene chapter in half because IT'S SO LONG Y'ALL, AND I'M NOT EVEN DONE WRITING IT.
> 
> Reasons why I've taken so long to update (and not updated any of my WIPs):
> 
> School, as always, is taking up so much of my life. I'm trying to graduate this term but.... yeahhh. We'll see.
> 
> I'm moving! Which means I've taken on another job and I'm like... packing and shit?
> 
> Good news? I'm taking a year off of college so I can fucking live life for a moment (which means time to write *cries*), also waiting out that financially dependent phase of my early 20s so I can qualify for more aid when I go back to school. Loans suck.
> 
> TMI? Maybe. Idc tho. 
> 
> Let me know what you think!!! I'm currently rereading the rest of this scene and *coughs* it's nice. 
> 
> Thanks everyone!!


End file.
